The White Room
by Vexa Leonhart
Summary: Gerita. Horror. Oneshot. Rated M to be safe. Past HRExChibitalia. Hiding in the White Room lies secrets to your past and his, hiding in the White Room is a purity waiting to be tainted by sin.


**The White Room**

**Summary:** _Gerita, horror, oneshot. Hiding in the White Room lies secrets to your past and his, hiding in the White Room is a purity waiting to be tainted by sin._

**Pairing: **_Gerita (Mentions of ChibixHRE)_

**Genre: **_Romance/Horror_

**Rating:**_ M to be safe._

**Warnings:** _Gore, creepiness, horror themes… you know, horror stuff… I don't think I have any coarse language in there… And there are mentions of a bit of Religion… Personally, I'm not religious, so don't get offended if I got it wrong or something… Country names used in favour of human names (for once) and… Shonen-ai, obviously, but not much, just implied I guess._

**Disclaimer:**_ MUST YOU RUB IT IN MY FACE THAT I DO NOT OWN HETALIA!? *Sobs*_

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The chimes of the old grandfather clock rebounded off of the walls in the dark mansion, and as Germany ran, he felt as if the walls were moving, breathing, their red wallpaper looked almost like blood, and he supressed a shudder as his black boots thudded against the wooden floors, and the long red carpet that ran down every hallway. It was like a maze really, every hall looked exactly the same, the same red carpet, the same dark wooden floorboards beneath, the same amount of wooden doors with the same brass handles, the same crimson velvet wallpaper, and no hanging paintings to identify each room… Just the same room, time after time, passing by in a blur as he ran.

Ice blue eyes darted from door to door as fear pumped adrenaline through his veins, the thought that Italy, cowardly yet sweet Italy, could be somewhere in this house, possibly in pain, frightened and angered him at the same time. No longer could he hear the frantic warnings of his companions, as he had long since bolted from the clearly marked parlour in which they had determined as safe and claimed as their base.

Nausea settled in the pit of the blond German's stomach as the rhythm of his footsteps against carpeted wood faltered and he came to a halt, staring in shock and horror as the room around him twisted and turned, doors widened while others collapsed in on themselves handles corroding and melting, it all looked so surreal, as the red wallpaper dripped down the walls as if it really was blood and the grandfather clocks chimes grew louder and louder, never stopping its even rhythm as Germany stumbled backwards and forwards, feeling as if the floor beneath him was moving itself, though he feared to look down, in case it really was, in case it suddenly decided to give way beneath his feet and he plummeted to God knows what, but surely something even worse than death itself.

And then it stopped.

Breathing heavily, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, Germany stared wide eyed at the single door before him, at the very end of the hallway he could have sworn wasn't a dead end a minute ago. The door was lavish, made of the same chestnut wood as the others around it, but this door was decorated with an extravagant engraving of a Holy Cross, in the exact centre, and in the junction of the cross, in which each arm joined together, was a single silver door knob.

Uncertainty, confusion, fear and curiosity filled him as the broad German man stepped forward cautiously, as if waiting for the floor to fall in on itself, or for something of equal measure to happen. When nothing did, Germany cautiously took his time as he made his way over to the foreboding door; he wasn't quite sure which hope was overruling the other, that this door would be a sole exception to all the other doors and not hold some awful secret behind it, or that Italy would be behind that door, safe and sound.

_ There's only one way to find out, I guess…_

Reaching out hesitantly with his right hand, Germany grasped the silver door knob and slowly twisted it to the right, cautiously pushing against the door to get it open. The door swung inwards slowly on silent hinges, as it revealed the room behind it, inch by inch.

The first thing he noticed was the light that spilled out into the hallway and shone on his skin, it was a golden light, like that emitted from a candle, but there was far too much light to be from anything that small, and as the door slowly opened it revealed what seemed to be a woman's bedroom, with cream white carpet and a large stone fireplace, which was currently ablaze, and explained the light. Atop the fireplace rested a few trinkets, such as silver picture frames in which the glass had long ago accumulated enough dust to cover over the pictures in them, and small china cat figurines, with glass eyes that glinted in the firelight, in the centre of all these trinkets though, resided a single closed box made from ebony wood and decorated lavishly with engravings, and on the wall behind it all was a mirror with a lavish silver frame, reflecting the rest of the room in its glass.

The bed was queen sized, with snow white down feather silken pillows and blankets cascading in puffy white rivers over the mattress and down the sides, the frame was made of the same ebony wood as the ornate box above the fireplace and white lace draped down the four posters and were bunched up at each of the four corners. Two white armchairs were placed at an angle on either side of the fireplace to reach the warmth… and yet, despite the blazing flames, no heat was emitted into the room, and Germany felt a shiver run down his spine as he slowly stepped into the carpeted and cold room, glancing around nervously, and taking in the sight of pure white and unmoving curtains in front of the only window on the far wall, and the eerily pure white walls of the room.

White, the colour to represent purity, everything was silver or white, the only blemishes to this colour scheme being that dark wooden furnishings. The room was clean, apart from the dust that coated the furniture and looked like it had never seen a resident in its entire existence, and despite the pure white of the room, it felt ominous, and tainted, despite the light cast from the fireplace, it felt dark, and it was oh so cold.

All was silent, not even the fireplace crackled, and the grandfather clock from the hallway had stopped when he'd opened the door, which he shuddered at the eeriness of. Germany stepped further into the room, and cautiously made his way over to the fireplace, in order to get a closer look at the trinkets above it. He saw his reflection in the mirror; his hair was out of its usually neat style of being pushed back and out of his face, now his short blond tresses clung to his forehead, stuck there by the sweat that had accumulated there. His ice blue eyes were wide and the pupils were contracted, whether it was from the overwhelming light of the fireplace or from the adrenaline pumping through his veins he didn't know, but it wasn't the time to dwell on that fact.

Eyes roaming the surface of the fireplace, Germany reached out toward a picture frame to pick it up, but the minute his fingertips grazed the surface of the silver frame, he pulled his hand back with a hiss, the metal so cold to the touch that it almost burned. And he glanced at the metal before pulling his earlier discarded leather gloves from his back pocket and pulling them on, reaching out to the picture frame once again and grasping the frame in his hands, the coolness seeping through the leather gloves on his hand but not enough to burn his skin like before. Nervously licking his suddenly dry lips, Germany moved his thumb over the glass of the frame and swiped at the dust revealing the face that had been hidden before.

With a shocked intake of breathe, Germany's grip on the frame diminished and the photograph went crashing to the floor, and despite the floor being carpeted, the glass still managed to shatter at his feet and reveal the photograph, or rather portrait, as a whole.

In the portrait sat a young girl in a field with a bright smile on her face, clad in a green maids dress and wearing knee high brown lace boots, the top of her short auburn hair was covered in a white cloth that was tied underneath the rest of her hair at the back, and at the left side of her head a single, gravity defying curl sat suspended in the air, her eyes were forced closed from the sheer force of her brilliant smile and her sun kissed skin seemed to glow in the light of the sunny day on which the portrait had been painted.

There wasn't anything really out of the ordinary with the portrait, or the young girl in it…

Except that the young girl was a young girl in which he'd fallen in love with many years ago…

And that young girl was Italy…

Germany's eyes were wide as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, confused as his hands involuntarily began to shake from the speedy rhythm of his heart, and he couldn't be blamed for his shocked flinch when suddenly, the lavish ebony box in front of him snapped open, it's silver latch coming undone on its own and the lid pushing back as if it had been pushed by someone.

On the inside of the box it was coated in green velvet, and on the inside of the lid was a single oval mirror framed in silver, in its reflection it showed the small figurine that stood on a spinning silver plate. As the eerie music box started up its haunting tune, the small figure on the plate began to spin slowly, the tiny figure was glad in that same green maids dress, with that same white apron, those same brown lace boots, that same white cloth… That same gravity defying curl… Except this figure was not smiling, instead, as the figure of a fully grown Italy in his maids dress spun around, Germany swore that the expression on the Italian's face was that of a haunting sorrow, as amber eyes were open and tears were painted onto the sun kissed cheeks, no smile could be seen on that painted face.

"Holy Rome~"

Germany's head snapped up at the vaguely familiar name, and he watched, shocked, as in the reflection of the glass stood a life sized version of the music box Italy, though smiling sadly with tears shining in the corners of his eyes, and Germany felt his heart clench at the sight of that expression on Italy's usually sunny face. A slender hand reached out for Germany in the reflection, and the blond spun around, as the music box continued its haunting tune, never stopping, never reaching its end.

Italy smiled sadly at him and reached his hand out further for Germany to take it, almost pleading with him to take his hand.

"Holy Rome," was the name that left Italy's lips as he stared at Germany's face in an almost hopeful gaze.

Why was he calling him Holy Rome? Who was Holy Rome? And why did it hurt him to see such a hopeful expression on Italy's face when he said that name? Why did it make him feel guilty? Perhaps it was because he wasn't the one Italy was hoping for? Or perhaps it was because he just couldn't bring himself to tell Italy that, to see that hopeful expression crushed?

"Italy, are you ok?" Germany asked quietly, as he stepped forward and reached for Italy's hand.

"Holy Rome," Italy replied, his smile didn't widen nor did it fade as he reached toward him a little more, though he never once moved his feet from where they were, side by side on the cream carpet as the haunting melody from the music box continued still to play behind them.

Taking his hand, Germany gripped the slender fingers in his own as he continued closer to the brunet, his ice blue eyes never once leaving the amber orbs before him.

"Italy, I was so worried about you! Don't you leave my side again, understand?"

"Holy Rome~"

Never once did Germany think as to why Italy was wearing the maid's uniform, nor why there was a music box which had suddenly started playing, or why there was a portrait of Italy in this cold white room. All of the questions of which he had been asking in his head had vanished the instant he had laid eyes on Italy again, the relief washing through him enough to bawl any man over. But one thing continued to bother him.

"Italy, tell me you understand," Germany said, conscious of the fact that the Italian hadn't said anything other than '_Holy Rome_' since he'd appeared.

"Holy Rome~"

That name again, why wasn't he talking to him? Why wasn't he babbling about how frightened he was without Germany there to protect him? Heck, he'd even have appreciated one of the Italian's pasta rants right about now! He just wished he'd say something-

"Holy Rome~"

That wasn't that name!

"Italy! Listen to me; I want you to tell me what happened, where you were. Can you do that for me?" Germany asked, gripping Italy's fingers tighter in his own, to the point where Italy usually would have begun to cry and complain about how it hurt. But there was no change in Italy's sorrowfully happy expression, nothing changed, none of the tears in the corners of his eyes fell, his smile didn't twitch, whether to grow bigger or to fade, he didn't even move his head in anyway, he remained completely still… Like a doll…

"Italy?"

"Holy Rome~"

And then he saw it, the emptiness in those eyes, in that smile, the cold feel to Italy's hand in his… This was not Italy, this was a doll… this was fake.

"Standing in the garden~"

"What?" Germany mumbled, confused as the sound of children singing rebounded off the walls in the room, and from the sounds of it, through the mansion. These children sounded so haunted, and as Germany attempted to release the Italy-doll's porcelain hand, the doll finally made some indication of life, and gripped Germany's hands in a tight grasp, much too tight to be Italy.

As Germany turned his head back to stare at the Italy-doll, a slight fear in him wondering whether or not the doll was going to let him go, the doll opened its mouth and uttered something new. In Italy's voice, though empty and haunted, it began to sing, tilting its head to the side slightly, staring at him with unblinking and glassy eyes.

"Standing in the garden~ A heart that needs to harden~"

The tune sounded so much like that nursery rhyme that he'd heard before… What was it, again? It was something about roses and tissues, or something of the sort?

"A coward~ A coward~ Time to fall down!"

And suddenly the doll fell, crumpled to the floor like a rag as the song suddenly ended and the music box stopped playing. There was no Italy, and not Italy-doll, instead, lying on the floor in front of him in a heap, was the maid's dress that the Italy-doll had been wearing.

Eyes wide, as the song's lyrics began to register in his head, Germany slowly stepped over to the curtain which had begun to flutter when the doll had collapsed. The tread of heavy black boots was silent as Germany slowly stepped toward the white cloth, reaching out to it with a hand and grasping an edge of the fabric in his hand, stopping in front of it, and slowly pulling it to the side to look out the window behind it.

Black iron frames patterned the glass in diamonds, as Germany looked past them and into the garden which was miraculously below, despite the odds.

Like the house, the garden was a maze, it was night time and tall bushes covered in flowers lined the cobblestone paths, almost like a hedge in a real maze, and the light from the full moon spilled onto the garden, all of the flowers in full bloom despite it being the middle of the night, and from his vantage point of the second or third storey, Germany watched in horror as the slender figure of Italy made his way through the beautiful maze, slowly getting closer to the centre of it, in which Germany could only guess would be the end of his road.

Panic struck him as he roughly pushed away from the window and bolted out of the cold white room, throwing the door into the wall and out of his way as he sprinted down the red hallways, the only thought on his mind that of ensuring Italy's safety.

Whilst back in the white room, red slowly began to seep down the pure white walls, and the music box started up again, only this time, it only played the ending of the haunting melody, before stopping all together and closing on its own, as red made its way through the room, staining the pure white carpets and bed sheets, with bloody crimson.

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**V/N:** _AHAHAHAHA! I finished it~~ Five pages! That's two pages longer than _Imaginary Weight Gain_~ If you need some fluffy Prucan now after this, go read it if you want~ *Shameless*_

_I have ligament damage and whatnot in my knee so I had the day off (I had four periods of six involving physical activity) so I decided to go on youtube because it wasn't even midday yet and I was bored. There I found this really creepy music box song ('Music Box – Sad Anime' look up that on youtube and it'll be the first one)._

_But then I thought, "Hey, why not write?"… So I did…_

_This isn't exactly what I'd call horror, and it's a oneshot… Uhm, I might write oneshots that carry along the same basic plot as this one, but I might not… It depends…_

_BACKSTORY TIME~~~ But basically, the countries are all stuck in this haunted mansion/estate thing. They can go anywhere on the estate but they can't leave (don't ask me why, I haven't thought THAT much into it). The mansion is haunted by them, or well, their pasts, and there aren't many safe rooms in the house. The hallways are dangerous, and the tea parlour/sitting room(whatever you want to call it) and kitchen are pretty much the only safe rooms in the mansion. The hallways are like a maze, and every door looks the same, so you don't go into the same room twice, because the rooms are constantly changing (screw logic, this is fanfiction). As it mentions earlier on in this oneshot, the parlour is clearly marked. All the doors have brass handles whereas the parlour and kitchen have plain silver handles. Germany's white room door appeared for the purposes of luring him in and haunting him with his and Italy's pasts (ChibixHRE) and so the silver handle and intricate door were merely bait, to make him curious about the room (who wouldn't be?)._

_But I guess, they can't leave until they've faced and gotten over their pasts._

_Don't blame me! Lately, I've started to get pretty interested in horror games (thank Xianta and her bloody boyfriend! They were the ones who started talking about Amnesia and SlenderMan with me around!) but yeah. I played I bit of Amnesia (not very scary, to be honest. But then again, I didn't run into any monsters and I was too focused on the mystery-plot to focus much on anything else~), and the whole darkness-makes-you-insane-the-walls-start-moving thing was pretty cool and I thought "Hey, why not?" So I did._

_I'm not sure whether or not I should dedicate this oneshot to Xianta for her birthday or not. I asked her for a list of pairings she might want to see, but Gerita wasn't on there (she likes it but she thinks it's boring)… SO I AM NOT SURE! Her birthday is in a few days and I promised her a oneshot… I think I'll write her something else… I'll write her something more fluffy or humorous than horror… Chloxe might like it though~ She loves horror!_

_OH DEAR GOD! ALL THE RED LINES IN MY VEXA'S NOTES! And none in the oneshot itself… Yay~_

_ Sorry for the long Vexa's note! *Sweatdrop*_


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